


Balsamea

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Holiday, M/M, Oz Magi, oblivious hacks, scent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-28
Updated: 2007-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris likes to tell stories.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Balsamea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tick_tick](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tick_tick).



  


  
"Tell me a story," Beecher demands.

I stare at him.

"Please?" He sounds brattish now, whiny and hopeful.

A beat, then I relent. "What kind of story?"

We've been locked down since right after breakfast and he's been skittish since then: pacing, talking to himself, taking off his shirt and putting it back on, lifting himself up to his bunk one minute and climbing down the next.

"Don't care. Any kind." He looks down at his hands. "I'm-"

"-restless." I finish for him.

He looks up at me, surprised.

"Christ, Toby, I'm not blind. I been here all day too."

He ducks his head. "Yeah," he says to the floor, "right."

I make a production over thinking about it, scratching the back of my head and keeping a close eye on him. Just when he looks like he's about to tell me to forget it and fuck off, I sit up on the bunk and say, "Well, you gotta get into proper story mode, c'mon, Beech."

It's hot in here; I'm only wearing pants and socks. I hold on to the bedframe as I stretch up to crack my neck. Spreading my legs and leaning forward, I pat the floor between my feet. "Beecher, hurry up!"

He shuffles over, takes the pillow from his bunk and starts to settle on the floor facing me.

"Nah, Toby, other way."

He huffs out an annoyed breath but follows my directions. Soon as he's still, I close my legs around him, and put my elbows on my thighs, surrounding him with muscle and warm skin. He leans back and his hair tickles against my chest.

We sit in silence for another minute, and then he starts squirming impatiently. Beecher's got a real short fuse today. I nudge him forward until I can rest my chin on the crown of his head. I clear my throat.

"Once upon a time…"

  
***

  
"So I'm lookin' at her and then at her friend, and I go: you picked the right time to tell me!"

I burst out laughing as I relay the punch line. Toby tilts his head back and looks up at me. He remains silent, not a single chuckle, and I look back down at him defensively.

"What?!"

Resting his arms on top of my thighs, Toby cups his hands over my knees. "That's not a story. That's a joke retold to sound like a story. It's like the one on the airplane with the stewardess and the blowjob."

I know my eyes light up at that. "Blowjob?"

Toby shakes his head, his mouth set in a firm line. "You said you would tell me a story. Still waiting, Keller."

I twist my feet up and dig my toes under Toby's knees while I'm thinking of what to say next. He's irritated, but he lets them stay there, then slides a hand down across the back of my calf and kneads it. The lights won't be going off for a while, so I gotta start small. "Wellll… there was this one time…"

Toby's wearing a gray hoodie zipped up tight, but I can see he's sweating underneath it. He's prickly right now though, so I rest my hands on his shoulders, just letting him feel my touch.

"I was up near Boston one Christmas. I don't know what the hell I was doing up there in the winter, 'cause you know how cold it gets? I was crashing with a coupla guys I knew from right after Lardner. One of them, his dad had a place near Harvard, right in Cambridge. Maybe he taught there; I don't remember. You ever been to Cambridge?"

"Chris, I went to Harvard." He's miffed that I've forgotten.

I continue, "Oh right. Well, then you know what I'm talking about. It was… so different than what I'd gotten used to out west. All those huge old brick buildings and parks, right inside the city. The, uh, Charles River, right there. There's this one park with a lake in it, and you can go for a ride in a boat that has this big-ass swan statue in the back."

"Boston Public Garden." He says wistfully.

I run my hands down his arms and back up again.

"Yep, that was it… 'Course it was closed in the winter, but I seen a picture. That woulda been sweet. And Harvard Square was somethin' else, Tobe. All kinds of people around, even in winter! This one place had those heavy-duty… I don't know, iron or something… tables and chairs outside; people would be sitting out there in the morning drinking coffee like they weren't surrounded by ten feet of snow."

I look down at him: his head's tilted back and his eyes are closed, like he's remembering. Very slowly, I let my palms slide down his chest, pushing forward until I'm nearly bent double around him, my voice right in his ear.

"So we're at this party, and I'm flying high and we pick up these chicks, right, and we're all walking back to Ralph's place-"

For some reason, this wakes him up, and I sit back up as he speaks.

"You knew a guy named Ralph?" He smiles.

I'm confused. "Yeah, so?"

"Ralph, Chuck, Dick, Peter… I always felt sorry for those guys." He sounds more mellow now.

"You named your kid Harry," I point out, touching the hair at the nape of his neck.

"It's short for Harrison!" There are conflicting notes of protectiveness and cynicism in that sentence.

"'Cause 'Harrison' is so much better." I comb my fingers through his hair and smile as he leans into the touch. "Anyway, we went right past this place selling Christmas trees, right there on the street. And they smelled so good. I didn't even know I'd stopped until I was payin' for one of them. Everyone thought it was fuckin' hilarious, but I just couldn't get enough of that smell. 'Course then I had to lug that thing all the way back with us.

"One of the girls ended up helping me; she had on these big, red mittens, so she gave me one of 'em so I wouldn't get scratched by the bark. And then she took my other hand in hers, so we could share, you know, body heat."

There must have been residual fondness in my tone, because now Toby butts in.

"I'm sure that was her only intention," he says sarcastically.

"It sure as hell wasn't my only one." I grin down at him when he turns his head to look up at me. "She was sweet, Tobe, nice tits, pretty face, cute little nose like yours. I thought all the girls around there would be nerds."

"Maybe she was local."

"Like she liked clam chowdah? Pahked her cah in the yahd?" I wait for him to join in riffing on Boston, but he just stares at me blankly.

"Jesus, Toby, you said you went to school there! Didja ever make it out of your classrooms?"

He smiles a little at that. I move my feet out from under his knees and unzip his sweatshirt about halfway while his attention's divided. I keep my hands pressed to his chest now, rubbing with my thumbs.

"So – everyone else's already gone ahead, I had the tree by the trunk and it was bangin' along behind me-" I unzip his hoodie the rest of the way and peel the sides back so I can touch his abdomen through his shirt.

Toby interrupts me. "You really bought a tree?"

"Didn't I just say I did?"

"Well, yes." He presses his lips together in contemplation. "It's just – well, I mean, what were you going to do with it? String cranberries and popcorn? Stop at the store for some tinsel?"

I'm a shade away from being pissed off when I realize that he's smirking, not sneering. Warmth unfurls from the knot in my stomach and I slide one hand up under his t-shirt and tickle the hot skin at his waist. "You laughin' at my story, Beecher?"

"A little," he concedes. "But I want to hear the rest." His face is half-turned toward me as he settles back, the heat from his body soaking into my pant leg.

I take a deep breath. "Well, she asked me to walk her home."

Toby exhales loudly. "Is that some kind of euphemism?"

I slide one hand down over his t-shirt and brush over his nipple. "Take it however you want. I did walk her home." I grin down at him. "'Course there was a lot more to it."

"Of course." He nods understandingly, and then turns his head away, resting the side of his face on my thigh. I scan the quad for hacks before I run my fingers over the back of his neck and slip them down under his shirt. The fabric's warm, but his skin is burning hot, as if he's got a fever. Toby's pulse jumps a little under the pad of my finger and I let my hand rest flat on his sternum. He's still relaxed enough though, so I continue:

"On the walk back to her place it started snowing – those big, heavy flakes, the kind's that really wet and they stick to everything. And we were both laughing and then cursing because about five minutes later, we're trudging through a couple inches of snow on top of what's already there. She said there was a shortcut, but we hadta go through the park."

I look down at Toby, but he's got his eyes closed and doesn't open them when I pause, so I push my other hand under his shirt collar and touch my fingers softly on his collarbone, like I'm playing a piano.

"I was still dragging that damn tree and fuck, my arms're getting tired; there's a bench, it's covered in snow but I had to sit down for a minute. She followed me over, sat down right on my lap and kissed me, took me totally by surprise."

I watch one of Toby's eyebrows raise at that. This next part'll get his full attention.

"Had on some of that lipstick that tasted like… strawberries maybe, but otherwise not a bad kisser," I grin as I remember. "She straddled my legs, and I unzipped her coat, pushed her shirt up and got another surprise – no bra or anything. Showed me her cute little tits, even though she was shivering because the wind kept dumping more snow on us."

Now Toby's shifting around on the floor a little, uncrossing his legs and drawing them up to sit Indian-style instead. This move puts him even closer to me, the middle of his back pressed right up against the bunk.

"Probably I was sittin' there with my mouth hanging open staring at her, and she grabbed my head and pulled. Aggressive… I liked it, how she knew what she wanted and got right to it. Her nipples were so cold in my mouth, hard on my tongue. We were kissing and I was licking at her titties; fuck, she got me hard right away, she started grinding down on me… I was ready to do it right there in the park."

There's a faint flush creeping up the side of Toby's neck and he clears his throat before asking, "So why didn't you?" He sits up and shrugs out of his hoodie, wadding it up and putting it over his lap. I smile knowingly; this story's makin' me hard too. I want him to move that damn sweatshirt, but I'll settle for watching him squirm for a while.

"Ahhh, Tobe. Cops! Coupla patrolmen found us just like I was sayin', wrapped up together. Now that was a real surprise, a big spotlight on us all of a sudden. They were all right – just told us to take it on home, to have a Merry Christmas. That motivated us and we ran the rest of the way to her place. And then I decided I didn't wanna wait any longer so I fucked her outside, up against the wall."

Toby inhales a sharp breath. A short pause, then – "Is that the end of the story?"

"You want more?" I'm curling my fingers on his chest into a fist and then opening my hand again, skimming closer to his nipple each time.

"Yes," he breathes out. A burst of lust makes the muscles in my stomach tighten when he pushes one palm down his thigh and under the sweatshirt. I lower my voice so he has to strain a little to hear me. I'm transfixed by the slow ripple his hand makes under the cloth of the hoodie, my hand frozen on his chest, the other wound in the ends of his hair.

"We made it to the side of the building, almost to the corner by the front door. There were some people coming out right when I let the tree fall against the wall. Didn't hide us or anything, but she acted like it did. It was – you know, when it's like you have to be inside or you think you're gonna die? I was so keyed up – and she was wild, kissing all over my face and scratching her fingernails up under my shirt."

I scratch my fingernails against the back of Toby's neck in illustration. He shivers, licks his lower lip. It feels past time for the lights to go out.

"She had on these tights under a little skirt, so those had to go. I reached up between her legs and there was just slick heat… Musta shown on my face. 'Crotchless,' she said. She unbuttoned my jeans with that mitten on one hand; it was like skin and fur, all at once."

My heart's thudding faster now; I hear Toby unzip his pants, his hand is moving faster and I think I might burst just from watching him jerk off while listening to me. I take a long, deep breath and close my eyes. A moment later, I feel Toby lean away from me, and then he makes a low, threatening noise. I look – the lights are out, it's mostly dark, and Toby is standing in front of me, his pants barely clinging to his hips. His boxers are pushed down, his dick's hard and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

"Keller…" he grates out. A hot thrill runs the length of my body.

"Yeah?" I tilt my head to look up at him. He's staring at my dick, which is pressed against my pants.

"Come here," Toby demands, and I stand up so quickly that I only narrowly avoid knocking myself out on the top bunk's metal bar.

We stare at one another, and then he starts to circle me. Toby on the prowl turns me on like almost nothing else, to the point that I forget to go on the defensive. I move reflexively, but still end up with my back to the wall. He comes forward and reaches out, stroking down the front of my chest with his fingertips in a soft caress. I relax and then he uses the palm of his hand to shove me off-balance and back into the wall. My grin is hungry, and his answering smile is almost cruel.

"It was so warm between her legs, and my fingers were so cold. I was playing with her clit and she arched back against the brick wall. We kissed some more; she tasted like fruit and whiskey and smelled like pine." Fleetingly, I imagine his reaction to my continuing the story, and his next moves don't disappoint.

Toby keeps me pinned to the wall using the weight of his body to back up the hand planted squarely on my chest. Roughly, he shoves his pants further down and then undoes mine, jerking them to my thighs. My breath hitches and his eyes narrow as he focuses on my mouth.

I risk a few more sentences. "I picked her up around her hips and her skin was cold. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her coat was makin' her slide around on the wall. She locked her ankles together and yanked me forward. Mm, Toby, so hot." We're staring each other down now, but I'm about ready to give in. It's what he needs, and he'd do the same for me.

"I know what I want," Toby rasps out, then grabs my dick and strokes it hard. I reach for him, but he evades my hand. "No." He shakes his head. "Wait your turn."

He pulls on my dick some more, his gaze still fixed on my mouth. I love having his attention like this and his expression is so intense it turns me on even more. When he opens his mouth, I think he's going to kiss me, and I lick my lips in anticipation. Leering, he leans closer and whispers, "Tell me more."

My hips buck forward and his hand tightens around me. "She stretched her arms out… and grabbed onto the tree when… when I made her come. They both… shook… so sweetly."

"Did you come inside her?" Our bodies are only inches apart; I keep my hands flat on the wall so I don't touch him. I'm trying not to lean into him, but his hand feels so good around me and his mouth is close enough to catch in a kiss. "Did you?"

I sigh. "No, she made me pull out. Then she jerked me off with that soft mitten still on, and I came all over her thighs."

"Come all over my thighs," Toby commands, and my body starts shaking before I fully understand his words. Grunting softly, I do, a long sigh escaping when I'm finished. I look at him.

"I want your mouth," he responds to the question in my eyes.

Sinking to my knees, I start with his thighs and lick up my come. By the time I'm done with that, he's nearly feral, clawing at my shoulders and pulling on my hair, hips thrusting forward, cock rubbing along my cheek.

"Now, now," he manages to get out. I suck him into my mouth and his chant changes to, "Chris. Chris, Chris."

Licking furiously around the head makes his body go stiff and then he trembles. I cup one hand around his ass, the other around his balls and swallow his cock to the hairs. He thrusts forward several times and then shoots down my throat, running his fingers over the crown of my head and gasping.

He helps me stand and finally, we kiss. It's a sweet balm of a kiss for a hard day and a mutually pleasurable night.

"Whatever happened with that girl?" he asks in a mellow tone.

"Huh? Oh. Uh, she asked me up." I nudge Toby with my shoulder when he giggles sleepily. "But I said I had to take a piss, that I'd be right there… and then I bolted. I was almost all the way back to Ralph's when I realized I'd forgotten the tree. I was so mad that I'd just left it there."

Heavily, I sit down on the lower bunk. Toby braces his hands on my thighs and brushes his lips over my forehead. "Good story," he whispers in my ear. "Good night."

"Night, Tobe." I listen until the creak of the bedsprings lets me know he's settled in before I lay down.

  
***

  
I meet O'Reily underneath the stairs.

He looks me over speculatively. "You ask for the weirdest shit, Beecher."

"Could you get it or not?" I'm impatient now.

Ryan reaches behind his back and pulls out a crumpled brown paper lunch sack. "Didn't say I couldn't get it, just said it's weird."

I open the bag and look inside. Grinning, I tuck the parcel into the front of my pants and tug my shirt down to cover the slight bulge. I smile at O'Reily. "Nice doing business with you."

"Yeah, sure Beecher. You have fun with that, now." His smile reaches his eyes.

  
***

  
Chris is supposed to get out of solitary today, but it's nearly lights out, and I'm beginning to worry when he still hasn't come back. I'm sprawled on my bunk, flipping through the pages of a book, although the words don't register in my mind. My foot's tapping out a jittery rhythm on the blanket, and every flicker of movement outside of the pod catches my attention. Finally, I spot Chris strutting through the quad, accompanied by a hack. His face bears an expression of grim determination, and my breath catches in my throat. Surely he isn't being moved to another pod.

I breathe a sigh of relief as the hack opens the door and pushes Chris inside, waiting until the door locks before moving off and heading up the stairs.

"Everything okay?" I strive for a tone of brisk nonchalance.

"Ye-ah." Chris's eyes glitter. His posture reminds me of a cheetah about to spring: pure power, tightly coiled energy and intense focus showing in all of the lines of its body.

Moving over to the mirror, Chris leans on the sink and stares at himself for several seconds before catching my eye in the reflection. His hands grip the edges tightly and then he's in control again. It's as though I can actually see the frustration and anger being drawn in and contained, and then Keller winks at me in the mirror. "Miss me?"

"Yes." I wait until Chris turns around and looks at me.

We study one another for a minute, and then the call of "Lights out!" echoes throughout Em City. Our pod plunges into semi-darkness. Chris steps closer, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, and runs the palm of his hand over my foot. "How much?" His voice is deeper than usual. I imagine the carnivorous hunger that I'll see in his eyes when we're face to face.

"How much what?" I deliberately misunderstand the question as I watch his hand slide up my shin.

He squeezes my knee tightly. "How. Much. Did you miss me?"

I stop tracking Chris's ascent of my body and reply, "Enough to get you a present."

This pronouncement startles him; he raises his eyes to my face, and I smile in satisfaction at what I see there. I move up on the bunk and dig into my pillowcase, fumbling for the paper sack. Pulling it from its hiding place, I put it on the bed.

Chris stares at the bag. "Do I have to guess?" He smiles a little as he says it, and I reflect that I'll never see enough of that private, happy smile on his face.

"You don't have to guess, Chris, but I'll bet you can get it in one." I pick up the sack, shake it, and then unroll the flap, reaching inside to the sealed plastic bag and opening it. A wave of scent escapes: the fresh, sharp smell of sap, needles and the outdoors, the rich aroma of pine. Chris steps back from the bed immediately, and I glance over at him, not expecting the blank look on his face.

"It's- I mean, I thought you'd-" I pull out the plastic bag and show it to him. Three foot-long boughs from a pine tree, rubber-banded together, dark green needles jutting off each side of the branches. "I thought you'd like it," I finish quietly.

"I do," Chris whispers roughly. "I do. Toby, where'd you get this?"

I pick at a spot on the blanket that's fraying. Shrugging my shoulders, I shoot him a small smile. "I have my ways," I say mischievously.

Chris comes back to the bed and picks up the plastic bag, elbows propped on the mattress. He pushes his face into the mouth of the bag and inhales deeply. He pulls away, a beaming grin aimed at me, and then repeats the action. Finally, he says, "Ahhhh! God, that smells good. Like, Christmas. Winter, and snow."

Unwrapping the rubber band, Chris drops one of the boughs on the floor, and then starts grinding it underneath his boot.

"Hey!" Outraged, I lean forward, but Chris has a restraining hand on my hip.

"Hey, relax." Amusement colors his voice. "Breathe."

I cast him a wary look, and then inhale so deeply that my nose twitches. "Wow… that smells wonderful. We always had a fake tree, you know, at Christmas. Mother's allergic. It even had sprayed-on snow. Boy, did we miss out."

Chris removes a second branch from the bag and hands it to me, then rewraps the lone remaining bough and tucks it into his pile of clean clothes. Extending my arm, I try to give the cutting back, but he shakes his head. "No, keep it. Crush it up with your hands."

He grabs hold of my free hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses the warm palm. "I want us covered in that smell while you ride my cock."

My mouth opens and closes twice before I can speak. Having him within my reach makes me hypersensitive, like my body's attuning itself to his and the words he's just purred make my dick harden. "So, you like your present?" I'm reassured now; I wanted to surprise him and never expected anything in return, but I'll never pass up thank-you sex. I'll never pass up sex with Chris, period.

My stomach twists in anticipation as I slide off the bunk, my body flush against Chris's, our mouths meeting in a fierce, hot kiss. Chris pushes both of our hands against the hardness in his pants. "Yeah, I like my present." One eyebrow quirks up, his lips curled into a sinful smile. "Maybe you'd like to unwrap something else now?"

We strip off our t-shirts and I arch into him, communicating my desire through friction. Pants and boxers are next to go, and then I watch as Chris pushes the blue trunk up against the back wall and straddles it long-ways. He sits down, legs splayed in invitation, eyes focused on me in a dark, needy stare. I'm standing in front of him, the pine branch extended like a peace offering. He accepts it.

He beckons me closer, runs a hand down my flank, then uses the bough like a miniature whip, brushing the needles over my skin. The muscles in my abdomen tighten. "Scratchy," I explain, but I don't ask him to stop.

Chris starts at my neck this time, trailing the needles to my hipbone, then sliding back up the length of my body and down again. I shiver and plant my feet solidly on the floor. I can't tear my eyes away from the ravenous look on his face. He smacks the tip of the branch against my left nipple and my mouth falls open; he repeats the action, harder, then again, harder, until I inhale sharply and a satisfied smile steals over his face.

Reaching out, he grips me by my hips and spins me around. I'm off-balance; my arms windmill for a few seconds before my hand closes on his wrist and I can steady myself. I stiffen when he smacks the whole branch across my ass and my fingers tighten around his forearm.

Almost lazily, he slaps the needles against me another four or five times, using the end, then the entire branch, and then it's just his fingers trailing over my skin. He cups one cheek in his hand and squeezes. I'm panting softly and my chin drops down to my chest when he scratches his fingernails down to the backs of my legs.

He uses his hand to push between my thighs. I lean against him as I spread my legs so that I can straddle both him and the trunk. His mouth is hot against my back and when he licks at my skin, I moan quietly. His cock settles into the space between my ass cheeks and I smile smugly when I feel him thrust up. We're both more than eager; it's been two weeks since I've been able to touch him and be held in return.

Wrapping one arm around my torso, Chris waits until I'm balanced, then prods my hand with the branch. He's mouthing words into my back now, tracing circles with his tongue. He blows a long breath out against my skin and my dick jerks up in response. Chris's fingers tighten on my hip. "Show me where you want it," he demands.

I set the branch down at the end of the trunk and lock my knees. Bending at the waist, I grab myself with one hand and reach the other hand back, stroking my fingers over my cheek. He knows I'm teasing, but when he bites at my fingers, I stop, holding myself open. My hands tighten reflexively when I hear his possessive growl.

When a slick finger trails down between my cheeks, alongside of his cock, I jump slightly, only to be held firmly in place by the arm around my mid-section. The tip of his finger pushes into me, and then withdraws. We both grunt as two fingers quickly follow it and he moves them around. "Toby?" he whispers hoarsely. "Can't wait. Need you now."

He pulls me back onto him, helps me sink down onto his cock and our noises are furtive, gruff. I put my hands flat on the trunk between his thighs and push all the way down, evoking a guttural noise from Chris; I'm holding my breath, feeling frozen in place. The backs of my thighs rest on his thighs, and we stay that way for another minute, adjusting, stretching, communicating with tiny shifts and sighs of pleasure.

I pick up the pine bough and Chris reaches around to help as I'm sliding it between my palms and rubbing it over my knuckles. He pushes it down my chest and both arms, then hands it back to me. I get pricked by the needles when the branch breaks in half. "Ow!"

There's a muffled chuckle, and then he's kissing the back of my neck, his hands sliding over my thighs. "Dangerous toys, Toby," he murmurs. "Gimme your hands."

I'm not sure how to do that since I'm facing away from him, and in my hesitation, he helps me put the heel of each hand at the base of my neck, palms facing him. My elbows stick out to the sides and I feel ridiculous until he hugs me tight with one arm around my chest, his fingers flicking at my nipple. I arch up and then we're moving slowly, the fingers of his other hand lightly encircling my wrist as Chris nuzzles the palm of my hand. The scent of pine is all around us.

Twisting in his embrace, I lean back and cup my hand around the back of his head. "Kiss," I whisper as I lap at his bottom lip. It's awkward, but then Chris's lips move hungrily over mine and his tongue flicks across the roof of my mouth. The muscles in my neck protest too soon, and I have to pull away. His mouth tries to follow mine but settles for latching onto the sensitive skin behind my ear.

Chris thrusts up impatiently and our slow lovemaking turns aggressive, frantic. He wraps both arms around me now, hands splayed across my pecs, my nipples caught between fingers and thumbs. I hold onto his forearms for balance. Lips, breath, hands, scent, heat; he feels so good surrounding me that I think I might topple over. I tilt my head back, exposing my throat. I don't mind feeling helpless with him like this and it's as if he can read my mind when his whisper ghosts across my skin: "I've got you, I've got you."

Abandoning myself to trust and desire, to our connection, I slide up and back down, working my body over his cock. He's forcing me to do most of the work, pushing up slightly with his thighs but letting me set the pace. I can tell how badly he wants to grab my hips and fuck into me by the way his body is trembling underneath mine.

Moving faster isn't enough, so I try taking him deeper, the head of his dick slipsliding against my prostate. I bite at my lips to keep from groaning too loudly. His hands are still pressed against my chest and his forehead rests between my shoulder blades, his quick exhalations adding to the heat of my skin. My full weight smacks firmly into Chris's lap on every downstroke; I let him fill me completely, balls to balls. "Is this how you like it?" I breathe out, and he sucks in a ragged breath, his arms tightening around me. The trunk scuffs against the floor as I arch back again and again.

Unlocking his arms, Chris nudges me forward; immediately, I miss the solid heat of him against my back. He licks a hot stripe up to the nape of my neck, then grabs my hand and pulls it toward him until he can kiss the tips of my fingers, pet over my knuckles and breathe in the pine-scent that clings to my skin.

"Smells so good, Toby," he says, humming in approval. Hands at my waist, he pulls me closer again so we're pressed back-to-chest. He runs his fingers up over my ribs, brushes against peaked nipples, then up my elbows and arms. I spread my arms out and back in a full body stretch, straining to touch the wall behind us. Chris smoothes his hands up to where my hands meet, clasping them together. Moving like this is even more difficult, but being laid out for Chris pleases him. He craves this physical reassurance; I know he listens, but he needs more than words… and I like being his fulfillment.

I rock back, lowering my hands to his knees to anchor myself. His hands are busy on my abdomen again, tracing my bellybutton, moving up to scratch lightly at the soft skin of my armpits, hovering over my nipples. Seeking contact, I arch up and he pinches them delicately, then more firmly, then harder still until the lick of pain makes me rise up involuntarily. He doesn't let go, his nails digging in and now I'm squirming, grunting faintly, breath caught in my throat. He releases one nipple and strokes my dick slowly; I buck against him, and his hands fall to my waist to hold me steady.

We continue, rising and falling as Chris sucks in harsh breaths and bruises my hips. Finally, I break. "More. Need more." I want to beg, but it only comes out as incoherent breaths.

  
***

  
I didn't think it was possible to be even more turned on by Toby – I'm inside of him, possessing him, loving him – but hearing his plea, I shiver uncontrollably.

I want to devour him.

In an unbelievably smooth motion, we pitch forward as one, falling away from the trunk. Toby lands on his hands and knees, and I lay over him completely, lips at his ear, my arms bracketing around his chest. Setting a torturous rhythm, I thrust in long, deep strokes, shoving into him relentlessly. His whole body is taut, his heat holding me so tightly I never want to leave.

I lean back, pulling at his shoulders, grinding into him. The air's hot and thick around us, heavy with scents: sex, pine, the familiar smells of our bodies in arousal. He writhes beneath me and the thought of Toby's gift urges me on. "This? Like this? Is this how you want it? Tell me, Toby, tell me."

"Yes," he moans. Then: "Yes, like that. More. Fuck, Chris. Fuck me."

I'm mesmerized watching my cock move in and out of him. It looks so fucking good, driving in steady and hard, my hands at his hips helping him impale himself. His back's beginning to curve and his whimpers are faltering, so I know he's gonna come real soon. I love making him come, how my name sounds on his lips when he's shuddering and quaking.

"Chris," Toby pleads.

Covering him with my body again, I kiss the back of his neck, breathing in the smell of his sweat and a whiff of pine needles on his skin. He tenses up at the contact, and I can't deny either of us any longer. As I lower my hand to grasp his dick, the back of my hand brushes against the pine bough I lashed across Toby's skin. It's like a trigger and I clench my eyelids shut as I slam my hips forward, surging into him harder. I know I'm groaning too loudly, but I can't stop. I jerk Toby off with quick, tight strokes. It's like being caught in a tornado: noise, speed, movement and consuming heat. Toby comes seconds before I do, his arms giving out, cheek pressed to the floor, clenching around me. He sighs my name like a caress.

I'm already following him, draped over him, shaking my way through my own orgasm and grunting in his ear. Gently, I bite at the line of his neck while we wait for the last tremors to stop.

  
***

  
Toby's drifting off to sleep now, and I stay awake so I can watch him. His cheek is warm against my shoulder and I brush a few strands of hair off of his forehead.

The smell of pine still hangs heavy in the air. I never knew I was that good a storyteller. Sure, I know I'm a good liar. And the thing I like most about stories is they don't gotta be true. But I wouldn't ever have thought Toby'd been listening so hard. Of course there wasn't any romantic snowfall, no chivalrous walk home, not even a pine tree. There was a girl with mittens, but I only remember that because she jerked me off while she was wearing them.

I was in Boston, and there was a party; we did go back to Ralph's, and there'd been a lot of drugs, booze and sex, but I couldn't tell you who I fucked that night or really anything else about that trip. Spent nearly all of it shit-faced and when his dad got home and seen what we done to the place… An hour after that, I was out hitching, trying to get on the Mass Pike and back to warmer climates.

I just thought it'd be something Toby'd like to hear.

He snuggles closer then, like he knows I'm thinkin' about him. Christ, when am I not? There's nothing poisonous about that white lie I told. And now we got this memory to share, this story to tell, and it's as clean and fresh as those needles; before, I didn't have any other association with pine and now, it only means Toby. I take his hand and press it, palm down, to my heart.

Only Toby.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for tick_tick for the OZ Magi holiday shankfest of '07. [Originally posted on LJ](http://oz-magi.livejournal.com/51523.html). Banner made by strawandrain.
> 
> Wish 14  
> Request 2:  
> Pairing/Character(s): Beecher/Keller  
> Keyword/Prompt Phrase: Chris likes to tell stories.  
> Canon/AU/Either: Either  
> Special Requests: I'd like smut, please.  
> Story/Art/Either: Story  
> 


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